In The Bird Song | TWD

Chapter 42 - Carry them with me

Harlow pov

I carry the clothes I half borrowed half stole from carl into the bathroom taking care to not wake the sleeping house. I carefully fold the fresh hoodie and bottoms over a railing before I realise that I don't have fresh undergarments so I creep back into me and Izzy's room where Michonne left a fresh change for me. I grab the fresh pants and bra but opt to leave the rest as I would rather where carls joggers and jumper over the tighter jeans and t-shirt Michonne left for me.

As soon as I am back in the bathroom, I gently shut the door closed before sliding against it to the floor where I bury my face in my hands. I take a slow breath in and then out allowing myself a moment to think about everything. I don't know how to feel about carl's situation, perhaps because I don't understand it. how can somebody just turn off? how could he not have grieved me when all I have felt for him since terminus is grief? it just doesn't make any sense nor does his claim that he just magically started feeling things again the second I reappeared. Maybe its just his excuse for running, no I shouldn't think that of him.

Carl wouldn't lie and even if he did, I would have been able to tell, I could see it in his eyes and the rise and fall of his chest that he was confused, confused and scared. not to mention his story lines up perfectly with how Michonne described his behaviour. I feel like I should be more worried but I just can't find it in myself to get all worked up about it right now, I just don't think I have enough energy to fuel anymore emotions. Besides he's getting better now, he said so himself. He is feeling things again and that is all that matters, I know he said that he still feels nothing unless I am around but people don't work that way and these things take time to come back from. He'll be fine, he always comes back.

There is just to much going on in my head already leaving no room for me to add another worry, I just need to trust he is going to be okay. I lift my head and glance at the clothes slung over the railing feeling rather accomplished, I wasn't lying to carl when I told him I wanted his jumper rather than the fresh one because I hated the smell of washing powder but I cant deny a part of me demanded to swap just because I wanted to be closer to him, to smell him when he's not around. But after so long without him I can hardly begrudge myself that small comfort, I would take is sent over that stupid artificial lavender any day. I fucking hate lavender, always have and always will.

I wonder if Annette would have liked lavender. My smile drops. The reminder of 'Frosted glass' echoes in my head. I can't allow myself to think of her, or who she might have been. I can't get tangled up in the people I have lost at the risk neglecting the people I still have. Izzy will find out about her sister tomorrow and I will need to be strong for her, sighing I shake my head trying to snap myself out of my thoughts and back into the present moment. 'I need to stop drifting'

My fingers fiddle with my sleeve edge as I get up and walk over to the clean clothes still folded over the railing, I don't want to change my clothes I really don't. my clothes are my second skin, they have been for some time. My clothes have been a privilege, something not to be taken for granted. Many people in the unit lacked any clothes to speak of, some lived solely in their undergarments whilst others had only bottoms with no top or a top with no bottoms.

When I first arrived at the unit, I often wondered what happened to those unfortunate people's clothes but in time I learnt. I didn't ever actually see it happening myself but it is not hard to imagine people stealing clothes from the backs of sleeping or unexpecting victims during the colder months or some poor sod being so desperate to eat that they trade the clothes on their backs for someone better offs scraps.

There was a fair few people who stripped the dead, myself included, but there were many others who refrained from doing so either because they were still clinging to the old ideals of respecting the deceased or because they feared some of the walkers blood or guts would get into their open wounds and infect them.